Fort Zachary Taylor

I figured the state park on the beach in Key West was overdue a visit from Rusty and I. No dice.

For pictures inside the fort check This Link.

There is a little nature trail around the moat. It's a five minute stroll through the trees on a raised piece of ground which means the vegetation is something other than mangroves...known as hardwoods.

I like to come by here from time to time to remind myself of tree names because I can never retain the labels. Besides at $4:50 a visit its a bit pricey as a pure botany lesson.

 Rusty saw  possibilities in the trees but trhere's that leash thing going on here.

 And then one pops out into what looks like a real meadow.

 Lovely. They used to exhibit Sculpture Key West art here. LINK

Except there are signs scattered on the outer fringes.

And then as we approached the pines for a look out at the Straits of Florida I ran into my buddy Curt who was taking a break in the shade.

We met when we were living on boats in St Petersburg at the Vinoy Basin in 1989. Curt sailed to Key West and I joined him for a while before I took my first tour of the Bahamas. We lived alongside at anchor in Key West for a while and Curt taught me the ropes of living cheap afloat. It was a rather more wild west lifestyle than I fancied even then when I was in my early 30s but it suited Curt just fine. He lived at anchor and knew where to park his dinghy for free and where to get drinking water and where to dump trash.  Me? I wanted a regular situation paying  dollar a day for those services no sneaking around. I was a party pooper but we both enjoyed the high life at the Winn Dixie food buffet. Years later Curt is still living on a boat in Key West working a couple of jobs and making this strange town work for him in ways many people have never managed to figure out. He had to go tie up a cruise ship and serve conch fritters to tourists, a job he's held for twenty years. A record.

 Not everyone is as industrious:

My conversation with Curt meant I had no time left to explore the Australian pines at the fort, such as Cheyenne and I had done in years previously:

I saw this old pedestrian walkway which used to connect parts of the park across  military land. I figure this bridge could be deployed usefully on North Roosevelt Boulevard to replace one of the much disputed pedestrian crossings which some consider to be dangerous to vehicles and pedestrians.

I regret the thought but I may have to come back sometime without Rusty. I hope he doesn't hear me express that thought. It has become such that we go nowhere alone, it seems like.

Suncrest Drive, Stock Island

I don't have  a lot of tolerance for endless post card pictures of Key West as though life is all margaritas and sunsets without the need for places like Stock Island to keep the facade functioning. The other half of this street I didn't walk as we ran out of time, but Suncrest in both directions is one block long each side of Cross Street and it's pretty gritty.

It just happens to be in neighborhoods like this that business gets done. South of Highway One as you approach Key West...

They call it light industrial if it is being classified, but it's where cars get repaired and where electricians and plumbers keep their supplies. 

For someone like me strolling by the greenery and bright sunshine make it look nicer than leafless gray streets Up North in the clutch of winter but working on a car outdoors in 90 degree sunshine can't be easy.

There is room to park stuff and unload stuff and store stuff out here.

And to accumulate projects, or spare parts.

I called this "an actual shade tree mechanic" on my Instagram picture. Rusty was intrigued.

No matter how tatty the exterior there is a liveable space in there and I'll be it's being used. You have no choice in a housing market like this one.

There are always palm fronds to remind you where you are, even if your surroundings don't remind you of Mallory Square.

And no matter where you are, parking issues rear their heads.

Duval Street this ain't. But without the services of Stock Island Duval Street couldn't exist.

Heading back towards our appointment to pick up the Ford with the repaired door handle - a Stock Island specialty is repairing cars! - Rusty startled this parrot. My little brown dog has no interest in birds, be they chickens or sparrows, but the squawking parrot shook him up and got his rapt attention:

The towering art in front of the ReCycle Bike Shop makes a suitable monument I think to the hands on work that takes place in these parts. 

And soon enough the Fusion's door handle was replaced and all was well with the world. Rusty found some grassy shade and we both got to watch Stock Island at work for a while.

Patterson And Eighth, Pocket Park

I drove past this pocket park a few weeks ago, quite by accident and I determined to come back to check it out.

The utility company used to keep electrical transformers dotted around the city and I guess the advances in technology made them redundant. 

So, rather cleverly they have been transformed with some mild landscaping, some art and a few benches, into places to hang out.

I wouldn't mind if they parked a porty potty in this spots. Te irony of walking the dog is that he gets to pee and I don't. After a while having to hold it interferes with the pleasure of the walk. But you do get a shady spot in which to sit.

Properly fenced it can be an off leash moment as well.

Except ny nuisance hound was on a mission and and let me know he wanted to get going again.

So we did. Been there done that and sniffed the artwork. Ready to keep moving. Sigh.

West Summerland Key

I am too ornery; I just can't get into calling this lovely island by it's new name of Scout Key. 

It is doubly ironic in as much as there is a camp on West Summerland Key called Camp Wesumkee for girl scouts so in an attempt to be nice they renamed West Summerland for them: even though their camp is named for West Summerland Key.

This (below) is the remains of the pump station built in 1942 to help pump fresh water to the numerous military in Key West in World War  Two.

And this is the view with the pump station to the right:

And Rusty, a brown spot in the grass nursing a twisted ankle as it turned out:

I carried him half a mile back to the car and a couple of days later he was back to normal. I'm sure the muscle relaxers helped.

The hero, resting comfortably: